I think of you when I wake up.
It’s been every day so far.
Often it’s from a dream of you.
I feel angry that I woke up from the bliss.
Then sadness overwhelms me.
I fear going back to sleep. I fear dreaming of you again.
I fear waking up.

I think of you when I get dressed for the day.
You picked out my favorite clothes.
I wear the memories on my skin and keep them close.

I think of you on my commute to work.
I wonder if your back still hurts.
If your nightmares still occur.
I pray in case it does. For strength, relief.
I pray that Foster Pants was a good boy, and that he peed on the mat.

I think of you when my day gets busy.
When my hustle was inspired by your hustle.
I stop myself from texting you.
I’m learning to pray for myself when it’s hard.

I think of you when the day winds down.
My mind still daydreams of date ideas.
I now refrain from adding them to a list I never wanted to show you.
It would’ve ruined the surprise.

I think of you on the way home.
I remember the Valentine’s Day instagram.
You couldn’t wait for me to drive you and take you anywhere.
Our Six Flags passes are still good until March. Date #5.

I think of you when I get into my room.
The paperback of your headshot greets me.
The jar of memories turned 180 degrees.
Your 6 month gift facing the wall.
I still have to frame your movie poster.
I don’t want to throw anything away. I’m not ready yet.

I think of you when I go to bed at night.
I imagine my pillow is you.
I pray to it.
I ask for healing. Forgiveness.
I pray for guilt to be removed from you as you move on.
I struggle with thoughts of if I ever mattered.
I give them to God each time. I know I mattered.

I think of you when I want to move on.
I feel guilt for asking for the strength.
Like I have thrown in the towel, given up hope.
I wonder why this prayer will never be answered.
My faith is weak. My prayers need to shift toward trusting in God more than ever.
He is the author.

I think of you, often.
I wish I could tell you.
I pray for you, often.
It is now the only appropriate act of service in love I can give.

I dream one day for reconciliation, friendship.
To be in your corner. To celebrate with you.

Everything in me wants to fight and win her back, to tell her we can make this work, to promise change.

Everything in me wants to respect her decision.

Everything in me wants to scream at the top of my lungs and say I want you, and that I don’t care how long it takes or how slow it needs to be, that all I want is her.

Everything in me wants to respect her decision.

Everything in me didn’t want to leave last night. I wanted to hold her more, hug her more, smell her more, memorize more details of her face.

But everything in me wanted to respect her decision.

Everything in me wanted to change, to adapt, to keep apologizing, to keep searching and figuring out a way to make it work.

But everything in me wanted to respect her decision.

Everything in me wanted to drop to my knees and beg, to refuse her no, to keep our relationship, to make her change her mind, to tell her that I would stop pulling her into a space she isn’t ready for.

… But everything in me loved her.

Everything in me respected her.

Everything in me wished her the best.

It’s not about me.

I’m sorry I pulled you into a space you were not ready for. I’m sorry I was so blind. I’m sorry for not respecting you then.